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Ode On A Nearer Prospect Of Summer Hill

Rating: 3.0
O Summer Hill! if thou wert mine,
I'd order in a pipe of wine,
And ask a dozen friends to dine.
In faith, I would not spare the guineas,
But send for Pag and other ninies,
Flutes, hautboys, fiddles, pipes, and tabors,
Hussars with moustaches and sabres,
Quadrilles, and that grand waltz of Weber's,
And give a dance to all my neighbours;
And here I'd sit and quaff my fill
Among the trees of Summer Hill.
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Dr Antony Theodore 14 May 2020
I go to join my wife and daughters, Drinking these nasty-flavoured waters. O Summer Hill! I must repine, Thou art not, never will be mine.. I have no wine. a fine poem. tony -
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Menato San 11 August 2016
What a nice piece
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